


Inflection

by notjustmom



Series: Words, Words, Words [150]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: First Kiss, Fluffy Angst, Gen, Johnlock Fluff, M/M, angsty fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-27
Updated: 2016-02-27
Packaged: 2018-05-23 12:26:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6116425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notjustmom/pseuds/notjustmom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>inflection: noun: in-flek-shuh n: the modulation of intonation or pitch in the voice.</p><p>1525-35; late Middle English (in the sense ‘the action of bending inward’): from Latin inflexio(n-), from the verb inflectere ‘bend in, curve’</p>
            </blockquote>





	Inflection

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Silvergirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silvergirl/gifts).



> a longish bit, for Silvergirl :)

Even before John could admit he was in love with his mad flatmate, he knew he loved the arse's voice. That much he knew. From the very first words he ever heard him speak; the first crime scene deductions. Some nights he sat in his chair when he should have gone to bed just to listen to Sherlock ramble through the case he was working on, just to listen to his voice. Other nights, he knew the voice was speaking to him over the cacophony of a nightmare; calming his breathing, allowing him to relax, and drift back to sleep, though they never spoke of it.

Before he finally conceded that the rest of him was just as phenomenal, John had already learned that the voice had a remarkable range. There was the, "Oh, John, you're an idiot" sigh; the panicked, "Where the hell are you, John" pitch, which, of course, John wished he would stop hearing quite so frequently; and finally, the soft, concerned, "You will be fine, John, as soon as I get you home" inflection, which he heard for the first time, about six months ago, right before he passed out after getting shot again, luckily in the other shoulder this time.

He remembered hearing the voice cajoling and pleading with him, "You can wake up, John...you have to wake up for me, please?" as he was coming to, and waited a moment longer before he blinked his eyes, because he knew when he finally did open them, he was going to have to look into the exhausted, terrified eyes of the man who loved him. He could tell simply from the change in the voice, the way his flatmate's posh delivery had crumbled over the last couple of days, and the way he would not let go of his hand was all he needed to know.

"Johhhn?"

"Hmmmm?"

"John."

"Ice?"

"Oh, yeah-let me get a nurse?"

"Uh uh, stay?"

"Wha-"

"Need to tell you-"

"Can't it wait?"

"Uh uh. Love you."

"No. Nope."

"Wha-?"

"Not here, you can't make me say it here, nope."

 

And there was the voice he fell in love with...

"John Hamish Watson, there is no way you will make me do this in this god awful room, with machines beeping like mad, nurses about to barge in on us and Mycroft lurking around the corner... you are crazier than I am, if you think I will tell you that my life would be worth very little without you in it...damn. No. Well, I'm definitely not kissing you for the first time in this room. And that's final."

On that deep growl, he jumped up and strode off in search of the duty nurse, throwing the entire floor into a chaotic mess, as only he could.

After a few days. John was released, mostly in order to keep the staff from all resigning, due to Sherlock's constant presence; and the booming voice that echoed through the corridors.

 

"I'm fine! I can walk up the stairs, Sherlock. It was my shoulder, not my leg...oh come on..."

"Nope. You need to rest..."

"Sherlock..."

"John, please?" Oh. That voice...hadn't heard that tone before...have to get him to do that again...

"Fine..."

Sherlock had lifted him from the cab, and carried him up the seventeen steps, even missing that one cranky board, pushed the door open and lightly deposited John on the couch.

"Come here."

"Have to get your bag-"

"Doesn't matter. Come here, please?"

"John..."

"Please?"

"l-"

"I've waited patiently for 5 days, 18 hours and 3 minutes, not to mention the two years that I wasted because I was a moron, for you to kiss me, so please? Just come here?"

"To be honest...I've uhm, never kissed anyone before...never wanted to before, didn't see the point..."

"Sherlock."

"John-I-"

"You won't disappoint me, it's something you learn as you go, I've never kissed you before, so I won't be perfect either..."

Sherlock finally sighed, and slowly walked back over to the couch, then tiredly fell to his knees by John's side.

"I've missed you." He whispered.

"Missed me?"

"Us, being here, at home. I wasn't sure if I was going to get you back here...you don't know..."

"Tell me?"

"You were in surgery for hours, I could do nothing but wait, I didn't move or speak for the first three hours, until Lestrade pushed me into a squad car, drove me back here and made me take a shower and change clothes, I was still wearing the clothes I was wearing when I held you...damn it...and then you wouldn't wake up...something to do with the anesthesia they had given you...I've never been so afraid in my life, John. You can't do that to me again...please...my heart can't go through-"

John carefully wrapped his trembling fingers into the tangled, matted curls and pulled Sherlock's face to his, stopping the voice he loved with one ragged, imperfect, off-centered kiss. 

"Johnnnnn...."

Oh. Yes...he needed to find all the ways that would make him sound just like that.


End file.
